Mushrooms
by SeasonVelvet
Summary: What you don't want to know, what you don't want to remember, what you don't want to think about.


You've read disclaimers before, use your imagination and place one here.

This story did not turn out how I had originally imagined it, though it is a story none the less. It kind of did a 180 from happy to tragic, but anyway, as sick as it might be, here it is. And also, I just wanted to create something where Draco Malfoy is as evil as he is in the books. Fanfiction is not Harry Potter, and the people who write fanfiction seem to forget the true characters. Of course, I'm a complete hypocrite, because this is nothing like Harry Potter either. lol

Read on fanfiction lovers. (Does that remind you of a commercial slogan?)

* * *

She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing. Sure, she was the one moving her legs down the hall, and the one brining her hand up to brush away hair that had annoyingly fallen into her face -- obscuring the view she wasn't paying attention to, but she wasn't really there. It's amazing what thinking did to a person. Thinking and pondering; a favorite past time for some. She had once been included in that group, with her insanely high grades and spotless academic record.

She had her life. Friends included, with adventures to match. What was once fun, now became a stone of L and D.

If their endeavors had ever really been fun, anyway.

So, walking down the semi-crowded corridor, her eyes unfocused, she traveled in a dream-like state. No one would think her capable of parading in a dream-like state.

Why was she dreaming? She wasn't dreaming, exactly. Just zoned. Zoned out on a high tragically created. As if The Hermione Granger had ever taken a drag.

Notice the 'the'. The. A word usually reserved for someone important. The President. The mutant goo-monster from outer space. The love.

Love. Love is a tricky thing. Especially for The Hermione Granger.

Notice the 'the'.

Ron. He occupied her thoughts quite frequently. Far too frequently for a supposed friend, wouldn't you agree? But they weren't friends. No. In her mind, they were much much more. On some days, anyway. After watching a romantic movie perhaps, she could see their future. Or dining at a restaurant with her parents, she could imagine them there. But then there were days like these ones. Where the sun touched the earth, and it was called the end.

Of course, that made no sense at all. She liked how it didn't, but then did, in an odd way.

Odd. What was odd, was a lot of things. Very odd things, all the time. Like people. They were odd. Funny movements, funny actions. Funny sounds.

She continued her delirium as it began to take notice.

Notice. She had noticed something strange. Very strange indeed.

"_What do you want."_

An answer wasn't given to that question. Not immediately, anyway.

She brought her hand up again, to brush that pesky hair away. She sighed as she thought about how her hair was always going to be in her face today, because she didn't have a hair tie. If she had a hair tie, she thought, she could tie her hair. But she couldn't now, because she didn't have one. She sighed again, with slightly droopy eyes.

The foggy white noise around her began to sound different. She idly wondered about what they must have been talking about, before the change. Her mind was brought back to her hair for a brief moment, as she imagined the girls might have been talking about hair. Make-up too, maybe.

She didn't wear make-up. Make-up was bad. Bad, bad make-up. Yes. Make-up should be punished.

She giggled. Although it didn't register to her, that perhaps giggling at that wasn't quite normal.

She liked to giggle. Ron and Harry always made her giggle. Sometimes. Its funny how you can say always, and then sometimes, for the same thing, isn't it?

_There was something in his demeanor, that wasn't quite normal. Something odd. Very, very odd. _

She closed her eyes for a second, mimicking the act of someone who had just experienced a sharp head-ache related pain. She hurt. But she didn't have a headache.

Her eyes slowly looked around the hallway. This was a very long hallway.

The foggy white noise was looking at her. Worried, confused, humored, shocked?

On the wall hung paintings, brilliantly detailed. People were detailed though, so in her mind it only made sense, the pictures be detailed too. She wondered, since the paintings were brilliant and detailed, if there was one that was smudgy and blocky, would that mean the person was stupid? A detailed portrait for a brilliant mind.

She soon dismissed that thought, however. It didn't make sense. An image of the Fat Lady tumbled around her head. It was brilliant and detailed. She felt the Fat Lady was not, however.

"_What is it, Malfoy."_

Her face scrunched up, as the sounds echoed in her ears. She looked confused and lost.

Why? Why? Why? Why, a word repeated. A word forever repeated. Why? Because. Why is why, and why it is, like a paradox, is a circle that cannot be ended.

Her thoughts ceased to make sense.

Why?

"_Stop it!"_

She stopped once again, as the sounds returned. Flashes, too. Images, in her mind.

She started to cry.

The foggy white noise hovered around her. Worried, confused, shocked? No laughs to day. No. No laughs, she thought. Unless you're Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

She broke down. Crying can only take you so far. And then you have to leave. Into a blackness that you can feel. Sleep is a delightful surprise, while blackness, a blackness you can feel, is slippery, like oil. Feel. Feel yourself sliding into the darkness. And then the darkness consumes you.

The foggy white noise. The worried, confused, and shocked faces of people she could not see, hovered around her. But she was gone now, into darkness. She would be back though.

"_What do you want."_

_He just looked at her. _

_There was something odd in his demeanor, that wasn't quite normal. Something odd. Very, very odd._

_She felt her instincts kick in, as the alarm was sounded. She tried to brush off the fear traveling down her spine. Her heart beat sped up, and her common sense started to scream. __**Run god damn it, run!**_

_. . .But have people ever listened to their instincts? _

_She tried to step around him, but he jumped in front, blocking her way._

_Pretending to be irritated instead of scared, she retorted, "What do you want, Malfoy."_

_He took a step forward, and in an automated response she took a step back. His eyes were hollow._

_She tried to move around him again, but just like before, he blocked her path. She moved the other way in a desperate attempt to get away, but he was too fast for her. _

"_Stop it!" She yelled angrily, trying to rationalize and deny what was happening. __**'This is just Malfoy'**__, she thought__**, 'he's only being the annoying prat he always is'.**_

_But he took another step forward, and once again she moved back. She turned around quickly, intending to leave the other way, only to remember the only thing down that hall was the empty class room she had just come from. She was at a dead end._

_Before she could react, she was grabbed from behind and forced up against the wall. Her eyes widened, suddenly terrified, and she struggled against his weight._

"_What the hell are you doing!?" She managed to yell, without even thinking to scream. She felt like a deer in headlights, frozen and paralyzed._

_He roughly flipped her over, and covered her mouth with his hand. She fought as hard as she could; trying to kick her legs and release her arms from his grasp. She twisted her head from side to side and tried to bite the hand covering her mouth. She screamed underneath, but nothing except a muffled hum was heard. That, and his heavy breathing. It echoed in her ears._

_. . . It all happened so fast._

_Before she knew it, his pants were at his ankles. _

_Still thrashing wildly with even more terrified adrenaline than before, she fought against his perverse advances._

_He let go of her wrists which were held above her head, and slid her pants, along with what was underneath, down._

_Just as her fists attempted to make contact with his skull, he grabbed them roughly and slammed them back against the wall._

_They both grunted as he rammed himself into her. _

The rest, as you say, is a blur. An experience to painful to remember; a memory forever locked away in the deepest corners of her consciousness, never to be disturbed.

The foggy white noise stood around her hospital bed, some crying, and some so consumed with fury it was frightening.

Hermione regained consciousness a while later, and lived out the rest of her life like a normal person. It's amazing what a simple memory editing spell can do. Neither Harry nor Ron, nor anyone else, ever mentioned that day again.

Malfoy, on the other hand, spent 8 years of his life in Azkaban. Thanks to Dumbledore and his revival of her muddy memories concerning the incident, Malfoy left Hogwarts, never to be seen or heard from again.


End file.
